


Change

by Drakanin



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fantasy, M/M, Minecraft, Oneshot, Other, minecraft au, skyfactory, skyfactory au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 01:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12806643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakanin/pseuds/Drakanin
Summary: They didn’t notice him at first. He was but a presence that lurked above them at the birth of the world. As they all died and respawned and died again, their corporeal bodies becoming the earth beneath their immortal feet, he crept further and further out of his shadows until they realized he had always been there. His history was their history, and his influence permeated all of it.They called him Death. They called him a specter, an ender, a fae. His name was Change. They called him Ryan.A oneshot gift for Ryan's twitch community for reaching an Extra Life 2017 stretch goal!





	Change

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for Ryan's Madhouse, for reaching a stretch goal for Extra Life 2017 :D
> 
> The prompt was an angsty Battle Buddies based off the lyrics “I gave in to sickness. Can you find forgiveness for a dear old friend?” as given by Gatertot! 
> 
> I didn't follow it exactly, and perhaps it's not quite as angsty as one might hope (my skills definitely lie in longer pieces rather than oneshots), but I had fun being creative if not a little artsy-fartsy with it ^_^ So please enjoy!

They were born out of nothing. The something they were born into was hardly anything, but slowly they opened their eyes and they Created. They added things to their new world, expanded with dirt and wood and stone. They branched off, each becoming interested in different things, whether it was farming, technology, magic, or something else entirely.

It was a world that they Created—but the world also Created them, and continued to Create. It was a symbiotic relationship, and for that, they all thrived.

They were gods, but the world was one, too.

* * *

 

“I’ve made a jetpack,” Ryan said proudly. He twisted around to show the machine strapped to his back as the other five looked on. “Eventually I can make everyone else one, too! But for now I’ve only had the resources to make one.”

“That’s wicked, Ryan!” said Gavin, his eyes bright as he leaned in close to the machine’s shiny metal surface. When he was excited, his hair glowed softly with solar energy, as it did now. With every breeze and every movement, sprinkles of golden light flicked off like dust only to fade instantly into nothingness. “This will make building things way easier!”

“And we won’t die as often,” Jack noted with a nod. He adjusted his straw hat against the midday sun. “Or at least— _you_ won’t.”

“That’s cool,” said Jeremy, crossing his arms and grinning. “But it’s not as cool as a magic stick!”

“ _Magic_ stick,” Ryan repeated.

A wand as long as Jeremy’s forearm and topped with two leaves appeared in his hand, retrieved from hammerspace with a pop. He flicked it with a flourish, and in the blink of an eye he shot up into the air a hundred feet. The others watched in awe as he held on to his magic stick like an umbrella and coasted back down, a huge grin on his face.

“Okay, that’s pretty cool,” said Michael. He had tipped up his mask to watch Jeremy fly, so now it sat on the side of his head. It was a simple mask, a curved oval made of wood with two dots for eyes and a dopey smile.

“I wonder if we could use that on a chicken,” Ryan said gleefully, eliciting groans from the others. “Watch it flutter down!”

“Ryan, please,” Jeremy said, grimacing. “Don’t be so fucking creepy.”

* * *

 

They didn’t notice him at first. He was but a presence that lurked above them at the birth of the world. As they all died and respawned and died again, their corporeal bodies becoming the earth beneath their immortal feet, he crept further and further out of his shadows until they realized he had always been there. His history was their history, and his influence permeated all of it.

They called him Death. They called him a specter, an ender, a fae. His name was Change. They called him Ryan.

* * *

 

Ryan whistled as he watched Jeremy toss coal onto bright red-orange flowers. The coal crumbled against the flowers, sinking into the earth as the flowers glowed with warm magical energy. Michael hovered near the fence a few paces away. Jeremy had basically apprenticed him to his flower magic, preparing for Michael to have a bigger hand in the process. By now, they all wore one of Ryan’s jetpacks.

“Your magic stuff has come a long way!” Ryan noted.

“Hell yeah!” Jeremy said. “We’re gonna make so much stuff from this. Eventually we can make a portal, too, and get new materials from another realm!”

“Are the new materials as cool as a cow in a bottle?” Ryan asked lightly, jabbing Jeremy’s side. Jeremy winced.

“I still can’t believe you did that,” Jeremy said. Michael cackled from his position by the fence.

“Aww, but why!” Ryan protested. “It’s a good source of milk!”

“That’s not where cows _go_ , Ryan!” Jeremy insisted.

“Supposedly we can make really cool armor,” Michael said, interrupting their bickering before it could start up. As much as he enjoyed watching the two argue—and argue they did frequently—he was impatient. He grinned at them and focused on keeping his feet still to hide his agitation. “If Ryan’s done being creepy, we can work on it some more. Jeremy?”

Jeremy sighed. “Alright, Ryan, go off and take your weirdness elsewhere,” he said, flapping his hands. “Maybe go rub your nuclear energy in Gavin’s face some more.”

“I’ll have you know, Gavin’s been working on some very interesting machines,” Ryan said, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “He’s taken a break from his solar stuff and…”

“Oh, so _your_ influence again,” Jeremy said, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“It’s not like I _try_ ,” Ryan said with a pout.

Jeremy laughed. He gave Ryan a gentle shove. “I know, I know. Just go make sure he hasn’t killed himself again, or something.”

* * *

 

When he first showed, they didn’t know what to call him. He didn’t talk much. He merely did what he was told, did his given task until ordered to stop. They thought he was mute. They thought he was simple, though they knew quickly he was not for his ability to perform complicated tasks without much fuss.

They didn’t learn his name until they somehow got his hands on a knife and a block of wood between tasks. No one was sure who gave it to him—the others blamed Gavin, who of course denied it. He carved a mask—a simple thing, maybe like a potato or a slice of ham with a smiling face. He put it on and laughed when he showed them his creation. His character seemed to change, as a worker found his purpose in the world.

Labor, he was named. Michael, he was called.

* * *

 

Ryan and Jeremy rested their backs against the fence, the grass soft under their hands. Geoff worked his farm as always, strolling between his chickens—checking up on them, picking up their eggs, cleaning out their pens, tossing seeds on the ground to feed them. Other animals wandered freely, though they mostly kept to a different section of Geoff’s farm. This field of fenced-in grass was an oasis against the disorganized machinery the others had built. The rest of the world was hectic, but the air here was calm and smelt faintly of animals.

Ryan frequently wondered how Geoff and his farm could avoid the whirlwind of change that enveloped the rest of the world. He was glad for it, though. It was a break from all that, as well as from himself.

“For the record, Ryan,” Jeremy said suddenly. “I don’t find you that creepy, actually.”

“Aww, thank you, Jeremy!” Ryan said. Geoff was on the other side of the field, crouched in front of a purple chicken in its pen, but they could still hear his whistling. “I’m rather fond of you myself!”

“Well, I mean, the cow in the jar is still kind of creepy!” Jeremy blurted. Ryan chuckled and watched Jeremy’s cheeks turn pink. “But you get ragged on more than you should be.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Ryan said lightly. “I invite it to myself. We all rag on each other, anyway!”

Jeremy fell silent. He stared at his knees, his hands ripping at the grass next to him. Ryan gave him some time, but he didn’t speak up for a while.

 “What’s up, Li’l J?” Ryan asked, prodding Jeremy in the arm. “You look like you still want to say something.”

“I’m…” Jeremy winced. His face was flushed bright red, like how he got when inebriated. “I’m rather fond of you, too.”

Heat washed over Ryan’s face. As he stared at his companion, Jeremy leaned over, grabbed his face, and kissed him on the mouth. Ryan, surprised at first, almost didn’t react before Jeremy pulled back. But just as Jeremy started to move away, he closed the distance again and returned the kiss.

Across the field, Geoff had stopped whistling, but they didn’t notice.

* * *

 

They liked to joke: which came first, him or the chickens? The truth was there was no real way to answer the question. He was a persistent force, a pervading presence that provided an escape from the rest of the world. To call him and his chosen plot of land insular, or to call it safe from the “outside world” would be a misnomer. It was just as much a part of the world as the rest of the chaotic machinations concocted by the others. But it grew to be considered a haven for the others, for how slowly it seemed to move compared to their own little worlds.

He was a welcome presence at all times. He was steady and calming, and went at his own pace—untroubled by the speed and recklessness of the others’ advancements, though he cheered them on and supported them all the same. He named himself Peace a long time ago, but now they called him Geoff.

* * *

 

“ _Jeremy_ ,” Gavin gasped, running his hands along the rim of the square stone basin. It was decorated with jagged symbols none of them could read. Ryan crouched and peered at the symbols, not wanting to touch the thing until he knew what it was. “What did you _make?_ ”

“It’s a blood altar!” Jeremy said proudly. “You sacrifice blood, and then I can do blood magic!”

“ _Blood_ magic,” Ryan repeated, standing up straight. “What can you do with blood magic?”

Jeremy opened his mouth, then hesitated, squinted, closed his mouth, stroked his chin, scuffed his heel, and looked up again. “I’m… not entirely sure, actually. But it should be cool! Gavin, wanna help?”

“Sure!” Gavin said eagerly. “I already have a knife from one of those zombie fellows.”

“You two are really going to bleed for magic you don’t even know yet?” Ryan asked, dumbfounded.

Jeremy shrugged. “I mean, we’ll learn. I’ve already got a couple ideas!—like maybe we can make some armor out of it, or some spell tablets…”

Ryan pursed his lips. “Alright,” he said. “Just don’t bleed _too_ much. We have enough dirt to go around.”

“What, you don’t want to help out too?” Gavin asked, poking Ryan in the side. “This seems like it would be right up your alley!”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean!?” Ryan asked, swatting Gavin’s hand away. Gavin’s eyes grew wide, as though startled by his own confusion.

“What, don’t you love this stuff?” Gavin asked. He glanced between Ryan and Jeremy. “You know, kind of creepy?”

Ryan didn’t know how to respond.

* * *

 

He congealed out of stardust and sunlight and made many mistakes along the way. He was responsible for the first deaths, being unable to control himself, and they watched their bodies turn into the earth for the first time. But he saw the sun and saw that its warmth could be used, so even though Ryan advanced quickly with nuclear power, he invested in solar energy. He helped whenever he could, taking frequent breaks from constructing solar panels, but he always returned, and Ryan grew to encourage it.

Energy, was his apt name. Gavin, was what they called him.

* * *

 

Jeremy’s blood magic altar expanded over time. He added columns around it, expanded the bowl, made a second sacrificial dagger. He and Gavin bled enough to fill a river with their essence, though _usually_ they were careful enough not to die. Occasionally Jeremy would leave it to go help Michael with his plant magic, constructing a hungry plant that ate the leaves off Geoff’s trees, or to go improve the smelter to get ingots and blocks of precious metals. But he always returned.

Ryan watched him work from Jack’s fence, leaned both elbows on the wooden beams and felt worry drain the energy away from his heart. He was still very much fond of Jeremy, but he feared this trajectory.

Jack worked on his crops behind Ryan, making his way up and down the rows with his watering can and basket, and making sure his plants were hydrated as well as plucking ripe corn from their stalks. As he reached the end of one row, he paused to stand next to Ryan, setting down his basket and watering can.

“I’m surprised,” Jack said, also putting his elbows on the fence. “I thought you’d be more excited about Jeremy’s blood magic.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Ryan whined.

Jack stared at him. “We’ve only called you creepy since we all met,” he said flatly. “Though, now Geoff thinks Jeremy is scarier than you.”

Ryan bristled at that. “I just find new uses for our things! It’s not always weird! Jeremy’s been—well…”

“He’s been using things that are _meant_ to be creepy,” Jack supplied. Ryan nodded. “And here I thought you’d two would be the power couple of sinister shit.”

Ryan hunched his shoulders, examining the grain of the wood with a fingernail. _Sinister?_ Is that what they had both become? He tried to remember the man who helped Michael learn plant magic, and included Gavin in whatever machinations he had currently. He tried to remember the sweet boy who kissed him at Geoff’s farm.

Were the both of them really that sinister?

* * *

 

He was one of the first to spawn, though not one of them could say which one was truly the first now. Their memories too muddled, the time too far gone. He got to work as soon as there was earth to till and water to run. Under his care, corn grew four meters tall and carrots populated their inventories. He bred his flowers and accepted Ryan’s change to make growing more efficient, and to save more time.

He didn’t bother much with names, satisfied with both Time and Progress. They called him Jack.

* * *

 

“This is too much,” Ryan said finally. He watched Jeremy break his own grave, freeing up the blood altar once more. Jeremy gathered up his old inventory, the tools and materials disappearing into hammerspace, before he brushed the last pieces of dirt out of the altar’s basin. “What are you even hoping to _do_ with all this? Where is this going?”

“What I don’t understand,” Jeremy snapped, sacrificial dagger already back in his hand, “is that you went from insulting Gavin’s solar energy to supporting him. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

Jeremy went for the altar, but Ryan lurched and gripped the wrist that held the dagger. Jeremy tried to tug his arm free, but Ryan planted his feet.

“You made armor that makes the wearer bleed,” Ryan retorted. “You planted the munchdew in Jack’s giant tree and waited for it to eat the leaves! At least Gavin’s solar energy _helps_.”

“Everything has its use!” Jeremy shot back. He ripped his arm away from Ryan’s grip, then squared his shoulders. “That tree doesn’t need all those leaves, anyway. Plus, I’ve made all these runes that help, too. And I _also_ made really _good_ armor!”

“We don’t _need_ it,” Ryan insisted. His tone melted from anger to pleading. “Please stop bleeding for this! You and Gavin both!”

Jeremy sniffed, his eyes flashing. “You know, if you can’t be supportive of my endeavors, maybe you should just go.”

It was as though Jeremy had plunged that sacrificial dagger into Ryan’s own heart. Ryan’s head spun, but he turned his back to the blood altar, punched his jetpack on, and fled.

He hid away at his floating isle. No one ever bothered him up there, not since he first built it high above the world. He sat at its stony edge and dangled his feet, feeling his heart bleed from within. He couldn’t help but feel it was his fault. The darkness that wandered throughout their world—surely created by him. A darkness that touched everyone at some point—but a darkness that touched Jeremy the most.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He gazed out across the world, towards Jack’s giant tree. It was veiled by fog, but he could still see the large chunk the munchdew had taken out of its branches. “For the sickness I have brought. I’m sorry.”

* * *

 

He was young, compared to the rest of them, but he wasn’t any less skilled. He was quick to learn and quick to do. He understood the nature of tools and machines faster than any of them. Yet he was a prankster at heart as well. Whenever he crafted a new tool, he preferred to introduce it by showing—a habit that often led to injury (albeit, more often it was his own injury). His chosen vice was more often magic, but he dabbled in almost everything.

He called himself Rules. He followed the machine’s purpose, used the tool for what it was intended. It was as simple as that.

He was named Jeremy. And even Rules are influenced by Change.


End file.
